You're done, dada!

Apparently, if you don’t play a game the way that Troy wants to play, then he now tells you that you’re no longer allowed to play with him. I know this, because I “broke the rules” twice this morning, and I was told, “You’re done, dada. You’re done.”

The first time I got in trouble was when he asked for help putting his dinosaur puzzle together. He couldn’t find the piece he needed, but when I pointed it out to him, he pushed it away and told me he didn’t want to do that piece yet. I kept insisting that it was the correct piece, but he more frantically pushed it away. Finally, I threw it on the floor, and that’s when I got in trouble. I was banned from working on the puzzle and asked to physically leave the little table until I had thought about what I did wrong. I know this because I tried to come back early and was told that I was stilled banned from the table. “No, you’re done, dada. You’re done.”

The second time was when he was playing with his music puzzle, where it plays a song when you put the piece on the puzzle. He was lifting them off and then putting them right back down again one-by-one. I unceremoniously dumped the puzzle over, sending all of the pieces off at once. I was once again told that I was done and that I had to leave the table. I’m not sure how long my banishment will last this time, or how many more strikes I’ll get before I’m not allowed to play altogether.

UPDATE: We went to the house of some friends of ours tonight for Friendsgiving, and at one point, Troy mysteriously disappeared. I went looking for him and found him in the room of our friends' little boy. He was sitting quietly playing with some cars of various sizes. I decided to sit down and keep him company. He welcomed my presence and immediately started showing me the cars and explaining some of their finer points...color, whether the doors open or not, and their supposed function.

He held up one gray car and said, "It's a Jaguar." Not recognizing the car from its sporty body style, I took it from him and examined it. I concluded that it was actually a Porsche, and I proceeded to tell him this. I was met with, "No dada, it's a Jaguar." I told him it wasn't a Jaguar, and he exclaimed, "It is!" Fearing that I was already on thin ice and not wanting to risk an additional demerit, I kept quiet and let him have his erroneous beliefs.